Out of Time
by Lady Rin Kayamata
Summary: What if someone from our time landed in the Django Unchained universe? And what if they came face to face with Calvin Candie, slavemaster of Candyland? BEWARE: angst, drama, oc, racism, slavery,time travel, divertion from plotline, and of course Calvin Candie. May be changed to rated m for violence or even sexual content.OFFICAL Y ON HIATUS AS OF JULY 3,2013
1. Chapter 1

Calvin Candie inhaled the smoke from his pipe as he toyed with the candy in a glass bowl; momentarily ignoring the blood that was pooled on the floor of the bar.

"Coco!" He called out. His face scrunched in disgust at the crimson stain. The woman entered the room, smiling with a mouth full of pearly whites.

"Yes Monsieur Candie?"

"Puh-leez clean this nasty stain here!" he whined. "Done got nigger blood all ova the place!" Coco nodded and left to get cleaning supplies.

He relaxed back into the stool as he ran fingers through his greasy hair.

"Tall glass of beer Bobby," he ordered of the middle age black man behind the counter. He scanned the room and reminisced over the fight Big Fred had won. Blood covered his sweaty, black body as well as the other Mandingo's. They had pounded each other mercilessly with the intent to maim and kill. He had only cheered on Big Fred 'till his voice grew hoarse, his cigar all but forgotten as it rested between his fingers.

The best part was when the nigger, no HIS nigger, had finally dislocated the other Mandingo's heart with a twist. He had blinded his opponent with the sharp claws of his garden rake, and watched triumphantly as he cried out in pure agony.

A mixture of tears and blood streaming down his face.

That had made Calvin smile and beam up with uncontainable joy. Another victory won.

More money in his pocket.

But not even looking at his gorgeous Sheba could bring him out of his increasingly turbulent thoughts. She raised an eyebrow at his troubled expression.

"What's wrong Monsieur Candie?" The woman lounged back into the couch; a tall wineglass in hand.

"I do the same thing every day don't I?

Come on here And ** you. Then I'm straight back to Candieland."

Sheba narrowed her eyes, but the dark skinned woman kept silent.

A heavy mist was falling upon him and his existance. And suddenly all the vibrant colors of the world fused into a dull grey.

Calvin Candie, owner of the fourth largest cotton plantation in Mississippi, best in the Mandingo fighting business, was bored out of his damn mind. Maybe ** was just too perfect.

Too predictable.

He needed a new hobby, friend, or SOMETHING to catch his attention. It needed to be exciting and new.

It needed to be Grand.

And unknown to him, it would arrive very, VERY soon.

**This is a newly edited version, shout out to my new betareader Graywolf24. :D What do you guys think?**


	2. Chapter 2

Meanwhile, in Bronx, New York...

Samanya bit her lip and inhaled slowly. She tried to think of something else, but her father's words were relentless.

They just came gushing forth without pause.

"Acting won't get you no money," he lectured, "why don't you try to get a real JOB?"  
Samanya opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off growling.

"Shut the ** up and listen to me! You ain't the adult, I am!"

Samanya exhaled, looking to the ceiling. She had to maintain her composure. Her parents never failed to remind her of her status as a 'child,' and it made her feel insignificant and lowly.

"How many people do you think actually make it? And how many do you think STAY successful in the business?"

"The industry is hard to get into," Samanya admitted grudgingly.

"The chances are slim to nothing. But, if you keep your grades up, you could be a teacher or something.'

Samanya shook her head. Again, he wasn't listening. He wasn't even trying to.  
"I want to act," she whispered." I don't want a job for the money. I want to do it because I love it, and can't see myself doing anything else."

"At the end of the day, you gonna need to make a living and if that means working at a job you can't stand, I'm sorry to say that's how it must be."

Samanya searched his eyes; her own unwavering as a bubbling rage fell over her. She wanted to shake her old man until he came to his senses, and scream at the top of her lungs. NO, I WANT TO BE A **IN' ACTOR AND THAT'S FINAL!

But she wouldn't. No.

Samanya knew better then to raise her voice. The fear of being stricken by his firm hand was overpowering.

Absentmindedly, she slipped her tongue between the gap in her two front teeth to focus her attention elsewhere. His voice faded away and Samanya thought of a different place.  
A different time.

If she didn't have parents she would be able to perform on stage; spinning around on her tippy toes, or falling on the ground in a tired heap.

She cried inwardly for her non-existent lover who had left her to fend for herself.

"You understand?" Her father's voice pierced her thoughts, pulling her back into reality.

"Uh...yeah."

He nodded swiftly before turning on his heel and exiting the room. She watched his retreating figure before focusing her gaze on the paint that chipped off the walls. A cockroach was rolled onto it's back; it's legs thrashing about in a desperate attempt at equilibrium. She watched in disgust as more made their silent escape across the faded tiles.

One day she would get enough money to buy herself a nice mansion on the country-side.  
Maybe the Hamptons.

Her mother was sprawled across the living room couch, wearing her work uniform. A blue, janitor's jumpsuit. Black strands of hair mimicked a veil as they covered her eyes.

"Mama?" She whispered. The woman remained motionless.  
"Mama?" Samanya whispered again; this time gently shaking the woman.

"Hmm..what girl?" The woman rolled over on her side, clearly annoyed.

"I'm going to see Django: Unchained at the Magic Johnson theater."

"Are you tellin' or askin'?"

"Askin'… can I go please?"

"Okay. Come on back by supper time."

The girl nodded and kissed her mother on the cheek. She looked for cash hidden in an empty pill jar and took out the required fifteen dollars and fifty cents. Money was scarce in the Ali household and every penny she got; she saved.

Samanya recounted her change. It was just enough for the ticket price. No money for snacks or anything.

She slipped into her winter coat and fretted; narrowing her eyes at the mass that was her hair, in front of the mirror. Every time she tied up her dreads, a single lock stuck out stubbornly. She sighed in exasperation.

No matter what she did, her classmates would make fun of her anyway.

Quietly, she shut the apartment door behind her, and rushed downstairs. The smell of Cannabis was strong, and Samanya couldn't help but cough as the odor intruded her lungs. Why people felt the need to pollute everyone else's air supply was beyond her comprehension. She figured it was not only because of addiction, but selfishness as well.

Outside, no snow had fallen upon the streets of New York despite the time of the year. She plunged her hands into her pockets as the cold bit and stung at her skin.

The dim light emanating from the streetlights, and the bright moon were the only source of light.  
Trains rolled on by and Samanya sighed as she looked at them.

Not in sadness, but joy.  
They ushered her into a world of warmth, and something else.

Hope.


	3. Chapter 3

Samanya quickly carried herself to the movie theater.

She had ten minutes before the movie started, and it would take her six minutes to get there. She quickened her pace at the realization.  
Suddenly, a series of vibrations ran up her leg. It was her phone. Samanya reached into her pocket; pulling it out, she unflipped it.

"Hello?"

"Hey Samanya," spoke the tired voice of her mother, "where are you?"

"125th street. Almost to the Magic Johnson Theater."

"Can you go pick me up a game from your Auntie's house?" Samanya groaned.

"I'll be late!" protested the girl, "do I have to do it now?"

"Yea, she's gonna be goin' to Atlantic City today. The game is called Candyland or something like that."

"Okay mama."  
She slammed her hand against the brick of a nearby building. Mama wanted her to waste her time retrieving a stupid board game?

Her aunt was a block or two away from the movies, and she began sprinting after hanging up the phone. Soon, she reached a building near a church with a crucifix hung up for the world to see. Samanya rolled her eyes at the banner that was displayed proudly.

Seek the love of the Jesus Christ!

Shaking her head, Samanya pressed the buzzer and was promptly let in without being asked to identify herself.  
But then again, wasn't Aunt Cleo always psychic? Maybe she just KNEW it was her.  
Once she made her way up the winding staircase, she stopped in front of a shabby looking apartment. All the apartments were shabby, but this one stood out the most.

The door to it was painted red while all the others were white.

"Why you banging so loud?" whined Cleo, opening the door. She was wearing a silk blouse and pants.

"You won't ever reach this door any other way".

Cleo chuckled, knowing her niece was right. "Come on in."

Samanya stepped into the house and found Candyland laying on the table. On the box were peppermint forests, cotton candy clouds, and other candy related impracticalities. It was a lot smaller than the one she had planned on. It was only as big as her hand, and she would be able to easily fit it into her pocket.

"I have to go now," she told Cleo, holding the game under her armpit. "Have a good time in Atlanta, auntie."

Cleo gave her a hug and smiled.  
"Thanks, you have a good time too. Don't be so gloomy about your dad. He is only doing what he believes to be right."

"And that justifies him being a you-know-what?" challenged Samanya.

"No, but it will teach you how pointless getting angry is."

Samanya shrugged. She was late and had no patience or time to argue. It was 5:50, 20 minutes since the movie had started!


	4. Chapter 4

Samanya fought against the chilly, raging wind as she rushed to the theater.

Luckily, she was wise enough to buy a ticket before leaving for her Aunt's. She made it to the third floor of the movie theater and rushed into her assigned showing.  
By the time she entered, the credits were finished rolling.

Samanya breathed in a sigh of relief, but it was cut short when she scanned the theater. All the middle seats were taken, and any frequent moviegoer knew that those were the best.

The remaining seats were of course the bad ones. Seats situated along the sides or way up in the front. She chose one along the side as it was the lesser of the two evils.

The setting of the movie looked to be in the wild west; complete with cacti, cliffs, desert, arid land. Sure enough, the captions on the screen proved her assumption correct; it was somewhere in Texas.

Pity washed over her as men walked in chains, shielded from the cold only with the rags on their back. Samanya was now a little more grateful for her coat, a hideous, oversized blue thing. She watched on in amusement as Dr. Schultz' horse gave a little bow after being introduced to the slave traders.

But MOST of all, Samanya relished in seeing all the blood splattered across the screen.  
Sure, part of it was because the people killed were racist whites who either practiced or supported slavery. All the fighting made her want to voice her approval, but the audience would be annoyed no doubt. Instead, she bit her bottom lip expressing her glee inwardly.

She watched on as a slave master sat at a bar, relishing in the scene that played out before him.

The man was repulsive, arrogant, and racist as hell. Disgust washed over her when Calvin was smiling and cheering as two black men beat each other to bloody pulps.

She thought it foolish to insist someone to speak French, especially when he knew nothing about the language himself. Candie's eccentricities intrigued her nonetheless. As time passed, Samanya even started to like Calvin.

His sense of sadism and passion reeled her in, but the fact he called his plantation Candyland is what kept her.  
Candyland, it would no longer bring up images of a harmless children's game. She would always envision  
Calvin and his cotton fields and the Big House. She would remember Stephen, the sellout. His absolute loyalty to Calvin made her cringe. If "house nigger" was ever put in a dictionary, Stephen would be the very definition.

The movie ended with her thoughts revolving around Candyland.

She felt the sudden urge to relieve herself, so she went to the bathroom. After zipping up her pants, she took the game out of her coat pocket. The grinning faces on the cover seemed strangely phony, fake. Candyland didn't have peppermint forests anymore.

"This movie has me going crazy," Samanya muttered to herself. If she were to meet Calvin Candy in real life, she would, by no doubt, have had been murdered. She didn't necessarily think before she spoke. Her untamable tongue had earned her a beating on more than one occasion, and she couldn't help but wonder if standing up for herself was worth it.

The degradation. The pain.

"Nigger, who you think you talkin' to?" Calvin demanded, blue eyes burning with anger.

"Who you callin' a nigger white boy?"

If he was going to get racist, she would too. An eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth. Calvin just looked at her in rage and grabbed her wrist in an iron grip.

Grinning maliciously with discolored canines, Calvin replied, "Your a cheeky black booger are you? And you know where niggers like you go?"

"...No".

He shoved her into Stephen who dragged her off to the hot box destined to suffer in a scorching abyss.  
Screaming for mercy in vain and crying as Broomhilda had.

Samanya's imagination scared her at times. She found herself wishing Calvin was real. It was a strange wish, but she had come to love Calvin Candie's character. He was one of the best villains the girl had ever had the pleasure of watching on screen.

Samanya reached for the stall door, grabbing the Candyland game. As she opened the door, a blinding light obscured her gaze; the scent of pine filling her nostrils. When she finally regained her vision, green pastures and blue skies met her.

Samanya looked behind her to find the stall and return to the bathroom, but it was gone.

"Hello?" Samanya called out. Only the sound of chirping birds and warm sun rays met her. Here she was, somewhere completely foreign and strange.  
Completely alone.

Where was she, Central Park? No, even the most remote parts had streetlights and paved pathways and benches. She saw no such thing here.

She had a feeling she wasn't in Harlem anymore.

Samanya looked around, only to be met by more and more forest. She felt around in her pocket, wrapping her fingers around her tiny cellphone. She sighed a silent, yes , before pulling it out. Her triumph was short-lived. There were no bars, thus no service.  
This makes no sense, whispered a voice in her head. Samanya ignored it, though she had a feeling that it was true.

She had a feeling she wasn't even in New York anymore.  
Samanya was only encouraged to call for help louder now, walking around aimlessly. Maybe seeing that movie was a bad idea.

She walked until her feet were sore and knees weak.  
Samanya took off her thick winter coat, the excessive heat forcing her to do so. Despite shedding the oversized thing, the sweater she wore beneath it provided little relief. Looking around briefly, she did the unthinkable.

Samanya wormed out of the woolen, heat trap; reduced to nothing but her bra. She was far from civilization, perhaps even further from reality.

This was all just a dream and she would awaken from it soon enough.  
But what if it was real?

Sweater draped over her right arm, Samanya kept walking; slapping away mosquitoes and flies when she heard screams. The shriek stopped her dead in her tracks. It was one of agony and fear, but Samanya dared not try to satisfy her curiosity by checking it out. Instead, she walked far from the sound and rubbed at her arms to get rid of the goose bumps prickling her skin.


	5. Chapter 5

Candie wearily scanned the rows of trees that comprised the forest. The sounds of the carriage wheels against the gravel road had kept him awake throughout his journey, and the blinding sun was hardly a comfort. Sitting beside him, Leonide and Dr. Schultz had bearly made a sound, and their presence was beginning to irritate the man. It had been days since he had returned to Candyland, but today he felt excited.

Shultz was offering him 12,000 dollars for one of his niggers. How could he NOT want to take the offer? Speaking of Schultz, the older man had been stiff in his presence ever since Alexander Dumas had been fed to the dogs. Whenever their eyes met, the German would look away or speak to Moguy. It amused him to see the stunned look on his face. He looked weak and defenseless. The smooth talker was speechless. He was German, how could he understand the way of Americans? From a young age, Calvin was taught that niggers were the lowest life forms on the planet, much like scum. They deserved to be beat and taught to respect their masters. Hell, who was he to go against his ancestors? He remembered Ol' Joe, his father's barber. The man was beaten and whipped until his face was swollen, and his back raw. He had read a book once that described the anatomy of the human brain. In blacks, the part of the brain that controlled submissiveness had three dimples. In whites, the part that controlled creativity and intelligence also had three dimples. Therefore, whites were naturally smarter than blacks. That was why Joe never fought back. It was against his nature to do so. He was BORN that way, and that's why Joe's kind could work in the fields and bare the lash. It was imprinted into their brains. He was pulled out of his silent recollections by a raspy voice.

"It is a rather spectacular day out, wouldn't you say Monsieur Candie?"

"I s'ppose. Weatha' the same to me as always."

The German nodded briskly, wanting nothing more than to disengage the conversation he had absentmindedly started. "How long until we reach our destination?" He asked nonetheless.

"Just 20 minutes," Calvin replied. He then took out his pipe from his breast pocket, and lit the woodsy smelling tobacco with a match; tossing it aside. He relished the euphoria that the tobacco brought. It felt as if he were flying, and his head suddenly felt lighter.

"I heard you have a German speaking slave?" The German nervously sat on the edge of his seat. He toyed with the wooden rail in front of him, trying not to seem too eager.

"Why, yes I do...what's her name? Hildi-somethin, the nigger with the scars on her back. He took a long drag from his pipe. The doc's eyes brightened; a sharp contrast to when he saw Alexander Dumas thrown to the dogs.

"If you don't mind, I have to speak to my partner Django, just for business strategy." A hesitant edge lined his voice. "That's fine with me."

It was just business after all, and no one respected the value of business more than Calvin Candie. He watched attentively as Schultz stepped off the buggy and walked over to the slave. They spoke in hushed tones and whispers. In the distance, he could see his house and the barn. Just beyond that, he could see the barren cotton fields. The cotton itself wasn't yet in bloom, it being Spring and all. It seemed as if the landscape had been untouched, much like a painting.

Just as he began to turn his head, a strange sight caught his gaze.

Samanya had walked for what seemed like an eternity before she came before a white house in the middle of the field. It looked a lot like the house in Django. Well of course it did! She was so obsessed with the movie that she conjured it up in her head. Thinking of Monsieur Candie made her shiver. He didn't care much for black folk at all.

Samanya looked down at the sweater which remained draped over her arm; considering whether to wear it or not. Wear it, wear it. But it was so HOT and Samanya was sure this was all fantasy. Her lips were chapped and her stomach cramping out of hunger. She thought of knocking on the door, but what if Stephen answered? He'd probably label her a runaway, and create a ruckus. Samanya decided that it would be a more sensible option to retreat to the forests instead.

The tall grass blew gently in the wind and she kept trudging on. The distant sound of clanging, and hooves pounding against the ground rang in her ears. Samanya turned around and froze at the sight of a group of men stopping their horses. Words were frozen in her throat at the sight of Django in his signature sunglasses. He abruptly stopped his horses when he saw the stunned girl. Like a deer in headlights, she thought. Who the fuck was the girl standing in fields, jaw dropped ready to catch a fly? A red carriage had also stopped and in it three men sat guffawed. She recognized Dr. Schultz immediately by his furry coat and white hair in his beard. The tension in the air could have been cut with a knife. She finally opened her mouth.

"Hi Django, Schultz," she whispered nodding her head slightly in recognition. The two men glanced at each other, confused. How did this strange runaway know them?

"Who are you? You don' look any nigger I have eva seen in my life!" exclaimed a voice heavy with a Southern accent. The slur bought Samanya out of her thoughts, her heart was now beating loudly. 2 hours ago Too loud.

"I don't look like a nigger, because I'm not a nigger," She retorted angrily. Damn her sharp tongue. Samanya looked around, and saw that the trackers were armed; each proudly displaying his hunting rifle. The thought of being hunt down like an animal made her cringe inwardly, and once again her she thought of the deer. Ironic wasn't it? She swallowed hard as the rhythmic thump of boots got louder. THE Calvin Candie was making his way towards her, flashing his signature smirk as he did so.

"She's probably a runaway," interjected Moguy from the carriage. "No," Samanya spat, "I'm not a slave." Not a slave? Well, she couldn't be free. What free nigger in their right mind would step onto HIS property of all places? The man took a quick drag from his pipe before intentionally blowing the smoke in her face. Samanya wanted to run, the mere sight of his tarnished teeth, and the stench of tobacco made her want to get as far away as possible.

"Who's your master gurl?" "I don't have one; are you deaf?" A murmur of surprise travelled over the small group of men, and Calvin's grin fell flat. The girl was no doubt a runaway, no slave dressed the way she was. Wearing nothing but a corset; flashing her assets for everyone to see. "Guess you'll just stay here 'till someone come lookin' for you."

"And if I refuse?" Samanya challenged. "Nigger bitch is gonna get it!" one guffawed. Samanya ig?nored them; her blood boiling hot. The man stepped closer, his figure looming over her own. She hated the fact that she had to literally look up to the man.

"I could send her to the Cleopatra Club, wouldn't you say gentlemen?" He whirled around to face them; the harsh laughter reverberated in the back of her mind. "Oh poor devil..." Samanya could see a malicious twinkle in his blue eyes. People had always talked down to her, and she was tired of it! Candie was in her personal space which only fueled the fire that was burning within her, and the stench of his breath was no help either.

"How about you brush your crusty, shit covered teeth so your breath doesn't kill " Another round of raucous laughter filled the atmosphere, even the stoic Django grinned a little. The slave master clenched his jaw hard, his fists mirroring the action.

"How about you cover your tits cuz' they're poppin' out."

Samanya looked down at her chest and her eyes were wide in horror. The attention was now redirected to Samanya's cleavage, and her cheeks burned with the realization. She had never felt so mortified in her entire life. If anything else had been said, she wouldn't have heard. The sound of blood coursing in her ears made sure of this. Calvin Candie had seen her boobs! Her dream was slowly turning into a nightmare!


	6. Chapter 6

The laughter rang in her ears like the cackles of a hyena, and Samanya couldn't help but look down to her feet in utter embarrassment. Despite the scorching heat, she pulled her coat tighter around her body.  
It was a pathetic attempt at shielding herself from their harsh gazes.

Candie suddenly focused his gaze back at the girl, his anger returning in full force. He glared at her through eyes squinted from the sun.  
She had embarrassed him in front of his men.

But what really irked him was the fact that a nigger had bruised his ego in front of other niggers.

He raised his hand in blind fury to strike the girl, before he was interrupted by a gruff voice.

The man in question walked forward with limp; a wooden cane helped support him as he slowly lumbered over.  
"Hello Stephen!" called out Candie.  
Stephen however, paid no heed to him. His gaze was fixed on Django who was mounted on his horse.

"What that nigga doin' on that nag?!" His voice was lined with utter disbelief.

Samanya stepped aside, allowing the two men to talk without yelling over her shoulder.

"Now Stephen, this here is my guest, Django and Dr. Schultz. They're here for business."  
Samanya chuckled to herself, remembering this part of the film quite well.

"The **s you laughin' at blueberry **?"

Samanya immediately picked her head up. "Nothing."  
She knew better then to engage the slave , completely aware of what he was capable of.

"She has a tendency to be rude," Calvin explained looking around at the other men, "which is why I'ma have to teach her some manners. Why don't you go prepare two bedrooms for Django and Dr. Schultz, Steven?"

"You gonna let that nigga sleep in the big house, monsieur?"

"Yes," Calvin hissed, "don't ask so many damn questions. You will do as you are told."

"We gonna burn the sheets and mattress after he leave?"

Calvin pinched the bridge of his nose, his patience dissipating quickly. "Now it's my business whether we burn the sheets and mattress after he's gone, understand?"

"Yessum, what about her?" He pointed in Samanya's direction.

"Take her to the back and bring me some lye soap."

"What's the lye fo'?"

"She'll find out soon enough, now if you ask me anymore questions, I'll make sure you find out too."  
Samanya shivered despite the heat of her winter coat and the Mississippi sun. She was familiar with Lye. It was a poisonous chemical that if inhaled or swallowed could cause damage of the lungs and the esophagus in the heart , erode metals, even glass.

And man did it burn like hell.

She swallowed hard at the thought.

"You, whateva ya name is, go on follow Stephen to the back." Samanya wished she could read what was on Candie's mind. But she couldn't.

All she knew was that it couldn't be good.

**What do you guys think? And again thanks to my beta graywolf24 :D And visit my poll at ~ladyrinkayamata**


	7. Chapter 7

Samanya stared at Candy, attempting to comprehend the situation. Her feet were rooted stiffly to the ground. She opened her mouth, but the words fell silent before she could utter them. What COULD she say? What could she do?

Samanya thought of begging him, but begging had no sway on his decisions. Alexander Dumas was evidence of the fact.  
No, Samanya wouldn't plea to deaf ears; she would do what she so often did in situations like this. She would hide the fear, the emotion.

"I eat lye for breakfast." A cocky grin had taken over her features.  
The slave master smiled at this remark. It was an eerie yet familiar smile.

"Then you should enjoy this."  
Samanya winced inwardly and followed Stephen inside. Shit, she knew she was rude about his teeth but wasn't making her eat lye soap a bit too much? It would set her insides ablaze.

Nah, he wasn't' going to make her eat it. But then again, if Calvin could shout in joy at a brutal slaughtering, feed slaves to the dogs without blinking an eye, and make a slave burn in a hot box for ten days; who was to say he wouldn't' make her eat lye and choke to death on her own blood?

The inside of the house was spotless with polished oak floors that shined fiercely in the sunlight. Intricate paintings of farm houses and wild horses lined the hallway along with an occasional portrait. What had really caught Samanya's gaze was a single crystal chandelier that welcomed all that entered; whether they were guests or slaves.  
As she passed the staircase, the rhythmic thumping of descending footsteps could be heard.

"Is that my brother, is that Calvin?" Exclaimed a woman.

Her feminine voice was tucked behind a strong southern twang. It was Lara, the forever cheery widowed sister of Calvin.

"Yes Madame," replied a weary voice. That was of course Cora, "the mammy."

The kitchen was behind a worn down wooden door. The brown paint was beginning to peel back, revealing how old the house really was. The kitchen itself looked like any ordinary one would, complete with cabinets, a food pantry, discolored wooden floors, and a primitive stove. In the back stood a lone pedestal sink, accompanied only by a stool.

"Uh...what do I do?"

"You don't have to do nothin' just sit back and enjoy your breakfast."

Samanya swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest with a deafening thump, thump, thump. She could feel her entire body become rigid, and the lines between reality and nightmare began to blur.

"Has this ever happened before," she asked sheepishly.

"What, burnin' niggas mouths out with lye? Nah 'cause no nigga was dumb enough to do the shit you just did. Jesus, I couldn't believe it you;" he wagged a finger in her face, "goin' toe to toe with Calvin, Is you crazy bitch?"

"Where's my beautiful sister? There she is!" He exclaimed when he finally saw her.

Out came the blonde southern belle in a pink dress, Cora trailing not too far behind.  
He gave her a peck on the cheek, receiving a peck on the cheek in response.

"I present to you my sister, Lara Candie Fitzwilly!"

Dr. Schultz gave a curt nod. "It is a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Fitzwilly, I thought your beauty was exaggerated but I can see that it was on the contrary."

Django remained silent, looking at the three of them from behind his shades.

"Come on join us for dinner tonight, Schultz!"

"I would be delighted to join you and your sister for dinner, but I was wondering about the German speaking slave in your possession. Could you send her to my room tonight…"

"You dickens, you," chuckled Candie. "I don't see why not."

"Stephen!" he yelled.

Stephen muttered something under his breath at the sound of his master's voice.

"Here his ass go callin' me!" The old man gave Samanya a stern look, and warned her not to do any other "stupid shit" as he limped away.

She thought of running away, but the fear of what could happen kept her glued in place.

A faint wailing sound came from outside, and she knew it was Broomhilda being taken out the hot box for running away. Samanya wondered how Stephen could do it.

Help Candie make his own kind suffer.

Sure, loyalty earned him reward. But was it worth the disgrace? Was it worth the degradation?

She looked up as one of Calvin's trackers walked in with thick leather gloves, goggles over his eyes, and a bandana over his nose and mouth. In his hand was a bar of ordinary looking white soap.

He set it on the counter and quickly opened windows to let in fresh air.

This was all too much for her. All these precautions reminded her of the danger of her situation. She couldn't go through with this; she stood fully prepared to jump from the window.

"Naw you sit yo'self down in that chair," called out an all too familiar voice.

Samanya looked towards the doorway to see Candie puffing away at his pipe. The smell of tobacco was strong, almost as strong as the odor emanating from the soap.

"Look," she said clasping her hands together as if in prayer, "I'm sorry about my comments on your teeth. No offense taken right? Can we just put that behind us and move on forward?"

"Yes, we can move on forward once your mouth is clean."

"Well, I have an urge to relieve my bladder so can I go to the ladies' room first?

"The ladies room? What in the hell is that?"

"And 'relieve my bladder'? Ain't neva heard a nigga talk like that in all my life. Tryin' to sound all fancy and proper now ain't gonna fool me now."

Samanya looked to the ceiling trying to breath. She was really about to get her mouth burned out. Slowly, she sat back down and looked at the bar of soap on the counter across from her.

The tracker picked it up.

"Open your mouth, nigger."

The soap lingered before her in all its ominous glory. Her jaw was fused shut, and no amount of force, in her opinion, could open it.

"You want me to make some lye water and splash it in your eyes?"

Samanya's lips remained in a stubborn tight straight line. Candie walked over and before she could do anything, he pinched her nose hard so no air could run past it.

She struggled to hold her breath, but her lungs threatened to explode until they finally screamed for air. She involuntarily opened her mouth; her body demanding oxygen but only receiving a harsh and bitter taste of lye.

The tracker began scrubbing it across her gums front to back. She began to sputter and gag as the air was tainted by the chemical. It mixed with her saliva and began heating up. The temperature escalated quickly, burning her insides relentlessly.

She could feel it making its way down her throat and through her esophageal lining into her bloodstream. Samanya coughed and thrashed around but Candie's strong grip on her hair kept her in place. The pain was almost unbearable, and she screamed out the best she could. Tears ran down her cheeks in an attempt at ending her suffering, almost as if she believed the liquid would relieve the burning.

"Take it nigga! This is what you wanted wasn't it? You said you eat lye for breakfast remember?"

The chemical began dripping down her chin, burning every inch of skin it made contact with. She wrenched and tried to jerk away from the man's iron grip, but it remained strong. "Please," she pleaded silently. It was all she could do, plead and beg.

The tracker removed the lye which had melted some and dripped onto the wood floor.

"Throw that out," Calvin ordered. The tracker nodded and left to dispose of it. The heavy aroma slowly ventilated out as the poisonous fumes escaped outside.

Calvin watched as Samanya ran to the sink to rinse out her mouth. She grasped her throat tightly, the pain having seemingly increased. Once she reached the sink, she spat the fiery substance out along with a large amount of blood. She watched in horror as the crimson liquid swirled down the drain.

"You learn your lesson?"

Her mouth tasted of rust and raw meat. The once smooth walls of her cheek were swollen and her tongue felt as if she drank bleach straight out of the container. Her gums were inflamed and throbbing. She sobbed silently into her hands, the pain being too great to hide.

She nodded her head quickly. At that moment she felt nothing but utter hatred and loathing for the man standing before her. All she wanted to do was wipe that smug look off his face.

"Good. Cora can go take care of you after she makes Hildi presentable." She clutched her blue coat tightly for comfort.

When he left, Samanya fell to the floor. She couldn't wait for him to get shot today.  
She wanted him to die.

Well in the end it would be Samanya and not Candie who would get the last laugh. The thought was consolation until she realized Dr. Schultz would also die along with him. But what disturbed her more was the thought of being buried six feet under in Greenville, Mississipi.

Long chapter whew! I would like to again thank my beta Graywolf 24! and dont forget to review and visit my poll and vote at ~ladyrinkayamata


	8. Chapter 8

Samanya was unaware of how long she was on the kitchen floor, head bowed down in defeat. Time passed, leaving the girl to drown in self pity. The stinging throb in her mouth made the flesh tender. But it was not as severe as the anguish in her heart.  
Samanyas skin crawled. She could still smell the sour stench of tobacco and lye. Above all though, she had lost face. Her smile would be a reminder to the world of how Candie made her gag on lye, with all the bleeding, swollen gums, Samanyas teeth stained with crimson.

Cora entered the kitchen as she fumed in silence over Candie.  
Cora had been sent to tend to some nigga gal brave or foolish enough to talk about the monsieurs TEETH of all things. She immeaditly spotted a girl wearing a blue coat positioned towards the wall, sniffing her nose.

" Uh hello ? " Cora spoke gently.

Samanya picked her up. It was Cora and not the smug voice of that candy eating motherfucker. Good. Samanya wiped away her tears before slowly rising to her feet. She turned around to face the mammy.

" What's wrong ? " Cora asked. Samanya was dead silent with a straight face. Samanya bared her teeth in answer and Cora exclaimed at the gruesome sight.

" Oh Jesus what did you do to get Monsieur Candie mad ? "  
Samanya was laughing inside at the woman. She had a desire to scare the woman into shock by showing raw caverns of her mouth. Candie had caused her distress and she wanted someone to feel the same. Even if it was someone innocent like Cora.  
The sadistic joy however gave way to indigination at Coras question.

" What did I do ? " she hissed, " question is what did HE do ? "

How dare she come at her as if she started-  
O.k. Samanya had been unwise when she cursed at HIM of all people. Obviously, she had bruised his ego and that was her mistake. But Calvin went overboard when he scrubbed her mouth with lye.

" You can't just talk how eva you want to white folk, especially not the monsieur! "  
" Yeah. So I heard ", Samanya said bitterly. Cora turned away from Samanya. The sight of her canines made her stomach weak. She inhaled and exhaled to calm her nerves and faced Samanya again.

" What's...what 's yo name? "

" Samanya. Samanya Ali. " There was a small tingle of joy. Cora had been the only person polite enough to ask. Not everyone was cruel like Stephen or Candie.

" Was that your master? "

Slaves did take the last names of their masters after all.

Cora was intrigued by her last namr probably because she was used to western last names like Johnson, Watkins, Powell etc. It was the same thing in the 21st century, so Samanya leaned back against the wall, relaxing.

" No I was never a slave in my life ", she replied a matter of factly.

" Mmmhmm," grunted Cora skeptically. But maybe her doubts were unfounded. Samanya spoke proper like white folks. Shit - she spoke BETTER than alotta white folks.. So could Samanya be a free woman with the misfortune to wander here?

" So you' s free? "

" Yes", Samanya huffed. Why could no one believe her?

" Then why not show him your papers? " suggested Cora.

" Papers? "

" Yes papers sayin' you are free. "

Oh , right! Free papers. Those were important, really important. Django himself tough and merciless as he was had not dare to escape with Broomhilda without retrieving the bill of sales from Schultzs very corpse. They were the only thing, for many blacks , that saved them from the yoke of slavery.

" No... I don' t have none", Samanya admitted. She scratched her scalp, shifting her feet.

" Then you not free - " when Samanya opened her mouth in protest, the older woman quickly added, " least not in they eyes. "

" They" being racist whites. Like Candie who had no qualms about owning another person just because their skin was a darker hue.

" Even with them papers, freedom ain' t a gurantee", Cora added as a afterthought. She motioned for the girl to follow her, and Samanya trailed after her out the kitchen.

" What do you mean ? "

" One nigger showed white folks his papers and you know what they did ?"

She cringed inside at Coras use of the slur but asked " What? "

" Tore ' em papers to shreds. They grabbed him and sold him back into chains", Cora answered gravely.  
Samanya let the words sink in. They let the man walk free and then snatched it away from him, like a bird let go to fly free - only to be trapped once more in a snare.

" That's fucked up. " She could only imagine what it was like for Broomhilda just HOPING to escape from bondage, thinking maybe today would be her chance only to end up in a fiery pit of hell.

Cora nodded. " Sho' is. "

They were at the staircase and picking up her skirts by the hem above her ankles, Cora went upstairs.  
Samanya looked on in pity. She was glad to know the ease of pants. Hopefully, she could get a new pair.

They entered a decent sized room with a canopy bed covered in red blankets. There was a painting of Lara hanging on the wall behind it. She had a pink hat on her head, gloves and and showed off all her teeth.

Samanya rolled her eyes at the picture. She was in her room of all people. She saw a wardrobe closet across from the bead and a shelf of romance novels. Perfumes, a box of make - up and a mirror were on a table, no doubt for the woman to use to clean herself up.

" Is she coming too? " Samanya jerked her head to the painting.

" No." Samanya smiled, a genuine one but at Coras tense expression, she quickly remebered the state of her mouth and closed it.

" Sorry." How long did she have to stay here without smiling?

" It's alright- jus' try not to show ya' teeth when you smile. "  
Samanya nodded.

" You were talking about clothes ", she reminded the mammy, changing the subject.

" Someone is gettin' you some clothes."

So. This was her initiation. The beginning of her life as a slave, and the end of her freedom...

It all felt surreal. And anticlimax. If this were a movie she would've been disappointed at the acting.

Being a aspiring actress, she liked to pretend to be something else. And to make her performance memorable. Samanya should be at a auction where she is screaming as she was sold off to highest bidder. That would be more dramatic, heartbreaking. Not so..dull as this moment.

" You o.k? "

No reply. Cora could see the girl spacing out, her eyes unfocused, looking out into space.

" HULLO! "  
Samanya jumped, alarmed.

" Sorry - I was daydreaming."

Day dreaming? That would not do her any good in Candyland.

" You can't do that here- unless you wanna hear Stephen hollerin' at the top of his lungs."

Samanya mumbled incoherently about the wicked old man. Suddenly, someone knocked on the door and Cora gave them permission to enter.

" Cora I got her some clothes. "

Samanya looked at then. There was a drab brown dress with long sleeves. How cool and comforting they would be in Mississippi as she swatted away mosquitoes and wiped sweat from her brow.

" You want me to wear that? "

Her face was blank, and Samanyas heart sank lower and lower.

" You HAVE ta' wear it. Monsieur Candie wanted you to be fixed up" , Cora said.

" My clothes are fine! " , insisted Samanya.  
She studied the girl who bought the clothes. A purple turban was twirled around her head, and she had high cheekbones under copper skin. The slave girl glared at Samanya with disapproval.

" Why you givin' us a hard time? You don like the clothes, go talk to Monsieur Candie himself ," she grumbled.

Samanya almost snatched the clothes out the girls hands. The mention of Candie had her panic stricken and a chill went down her spine.

" Who are you? " Samanya inquired of her. She didn't recall seeing her in the movie.  
"Isabella. "

Isabellas stance was erect, head high in a regal manner - a sharp contrast with her looks. Blisters covered the palms of her hands, some tears in her dress and soiled with sweat and dirt. She was a field slave. Why not a house one...she was certaintly not as dark as Samanya. Maybe there were exceptions to the rule. Would she have to work alongside her?

Picking cotton under the scorching Mississipi sun was not a attractive option to Samanya.

" What's your name? "

" Samanya."

" Well Samanya,welcome to Candyland ", annouced Isabella. She sounded as if this was paradise and not hell itself. For a minute Samana thought the girl was serious when Isabella gave her a wink. She sighed. Good, there was no female Stephen.  
Samanya gave a close lipped smile and Isabellas serious demeanor melted away instantly.

" See ? You gotta pretend everything's great to keep from crying ! "

Samanya nodded. " That's true", she agreed.

" Glad you can see that. Let's get you dressed for 'monsieur ' Candie." She emphasied monsieur in a mocking tone of voice.

" I...gotta meet him by myself...?" She asked timidly, still remebering the acrid taste of lye. Samanya began taking off her coat and sweater, only her bra left on her upper body. This time she had no fear of Candie or his men seeing her with the door closed and neither in close range.

" Why- you scared? " She squinted at Samanyas bra.

" Funny corset. "

Cora peered over Isabellas shoulder, curious.

" Chile, what is THAT ? "

" A bra " Samanya said, hiding a amused look, " and I am not scared. " She unbuttoned her jeans and slipped her legs out, one by one.  
The new clothes were kinda weird. She had to put on a petticoat jnder the skirt, a button up blouse, and some shoes but she fought to keep on her converse and Cora and Isabella backed down. The shirt was buttoned up all to her neck and trapping alot of heat in.

" I can't do this", Samanya said. She was tempted to throw away the whole thing, but didn't. She would not cause anymore trouble for herself or the slave women. They were only doing their job.

" You look good , " Isabella complimented.

" Thank you." Rarely did she receive compliments on her looks. Samanya was so in the moment that she forgot to keep her mouth closed when she grinned .

Isabella seemed stunned at first, than her eyes darkened.

" He did that," she finally said after a long pause. It was a statement and not a question. Samanya said quietly, " Yes."

Isabella extended a hand. " Come on."

Samanya stood, refusing to budge. She knew not answering to her summons would earn her further pain but Samanya did not want to face him. Not alone at least.

"You gotta go... ", Isabella said firmly. Samanya mentally cursed her until she added "and I'll come with you." Her tone was gentle with kindness.

Samanya looked up at her. This time she wasn't angry she literally had to look up to Isabella as she did Candie. Samanya was in awe at the strength of Isabella. Despite enduring hardships, her heart had not yet hardened. Isabella still had love to give.

It struck Samanya as funny how a slave proved to be more noble, more honorable than the master who was suposedly superior. Samanya hoped she could pretend at least to be as composed as Isabella. She doubted it was possible for as she walked down every step, Samanya was bubbling up with excitement at Candies pending death while her heart was weighed down with dread.

However, there was one thing drowning those two emotions out. And that was the hold of Isabellas hand in her own as they entered the lions den.

**What do you guys think ? Had to edit it myself :( what do you think of Isabella ? You can pm me questions concerns etc. vote at my poll at ~ladyrinkayamata. Also please read and review the maggiepz's slash fic if you dont mind slash. its not explicit its rated t and deserves more reviews. the link s/8945134/1/The-King-and-His-Prince i think we need more slash fiction. Thanks everyone for reading my work and pming me ! Your reviews make me happy! **


	9. Chapter 9 ( Part A)

_Hey sorry for taking long. My computer I can only used for studying and my smartphone got taken- I updated all my stories on it. I will try update a week or so, but if it takes longer just know that is the only reason. NOW ENJOY_

Samanya looked down the steps. There was a ominous aura about them for they led her down to the devil himself. She began climbing down.

One step...

Her stomach felt kind of nauseous, weak.

Two steps...

Samanya tightened her fingers around Isabella's hand.

Tree steps...

Four steps...

Five steps...

Samanya was halfway through the stairs.

Six steps...

Seven steps...

8 steps...

9 steps...

Her foot landed on the floor with a soft thud but in her hypersensitive ears it sounded like a loud BOOM !

" Samanya...its alright - you look like you don seen a ghost " , Isabella said. Her hand was in pain from the other girls viselike grip.

Samanya stood deadly still, her resolve melting away like ice cream in the hot summer sun.

" I don't want to go - he freakin' melted my mouth of...imagine if I had swallowed..."

She shook her head, unable to go further.

" How about you close ya' eyes? Pretend you's not in Candyland but somewhere else."

" Yeah as if that'll work."

How could she focus on anything but Candie ?! This was not some walk in the park but to her doom.

" Do it " Isabella commanded, " or we ain't ever gonna get there with you all scared." Her voice left no room for discussion, she had no more patience for Samanyas foolishness.

" Fine" Samanya surrendered, " but it won't work. "

She closed her eyes and the only thing guiding her in the darkness was the tug of Isabellas hand. Samanya thought of home. The tall buildings reaching the sky on Manhattan island. Her throat tightened as she reminisced.

How long had it been she ended up here? Hours? Would her parents be worried? Mad? Isabella suddenly stopped.

" We're here , " Isabella said. Samanya still kept her eyes closed. She wasn't in Candyland. She was a star on stage far away from this hell hole.

" You may enter ," called out the unfortunately familiar southern drawl of Calvin Candie.

" Remember , " Isabella told Samanya, " be nice but don just stand there. If you want somethin' you gotta be nice bout it. "

So she wanted her to be polite but assertive- polite so she would not get in trouble asertive so she would be able to have some voice no matter how little in affairs concerning her.

Isabella turned the door knob and entered the library, Samanya trailing after her.  
Stephen was leaning on his cane, sending dirty looks in Samanyas direction. She could see Candie facing the book shelves, sitting in a red chair. Samanya knew it was him with oily looking dirty blond hair.

Samanya quickly recalled the scene where Schultz shot Candie and her skin was bumpy with goose bumps, but in a pleasant way. She could not help but smirk a little. Candie would die very soon...

" Whatchu smilin' at? " demanded Stephen. Samanya rolled her eyes. Couldn't' t the negro shut up for once?

" Awww hell no - you gon' get a attitude with me - " his voice grew louder by the second, " I ain't the reason Calvin cleaned ya mouth real good with that - "

" Stephen ! " barked Candie, " stop antagonizing her. "

" Yes Calvin , " Stephen replied meekly. His eyes however did not leave her. Candies back was to them and Samanya wondered if he was just going to keep sitting there or what? Not only was it kind of rude- not that Candie was "polite" (but didn't he he pride himself in being a "southern gentleman?") it only made her extended the duration of her anxiety.

Finally, Candie rose to his feet and surprisingly had no tobacco. This comforted her marginally. The atmosphere would be better without the toxins of his pipe being released into the air. Yeah, maybe she could-

Her joy dropped when Samanya heard the flick of a match and soon the air was made foul again with his fumes. Candie then turned to face them.

"'Bout time you got here ! What was y'all doin' playin'?"

Isabella forced a smile.

" No, just gettin' her ready Monsieur."

Candie looked Samanya over and nodded in approval before his eyes went back to her hair It hanged a couple inches above her shoulders in thick coils. It contrasted with the rest of her otherwise normal appearance.

"Why her hair like that?"

Isabella looked at Samanyas locks and shrugged.

"I wouldn't know Monsieur. I neva seen any hair like that in my life."

First it was the clothes and now the hair, He wondered what other bizarre things he could expect from Sammi.

"Should comb that nappy ass hair out , " commented Stephen.

"That would pull out all my hair and leave me with nothing dummy ," Samanya snapped. Samanya was going to say dumb ass but when she started forming the word on her lips, the taste of lye came back, hot burning and sizzling.

Stephen opened his mouth again but Candie said, " Stephen- what did I just tell you ?"

"To not " antagonize" her. Humph."

"Then do it because right now you's antagonizing _me._ And you know what I do to niggers that antagonize _me._"

Stephen did not know exactly what the word meant, but the irritated tone of voice and the hard look in his eyes, it meant Stephen was upsetting him or something. And Stephen did not like to upset Calvin.

" Alrite Calvin damn. I'm sorry." He glared daggers at Samanya.

"Good."

Candie then walked around his chair towards the two girls. Isabella still held Samanyas hand and it did not escape Candies eyes.

" Y' all holdin' hands ? Cute," he said condescending.

Samanya didn't say a word. She could not help but think how she hated the very smell of the man.

" Ain't nothin' wrong with us holdin' hands is there monsieur ? " Isabella asked innocently.

" Nothin' at all Bell - " Isabella clenched her jaw to his delight, " you look childish that's all. "

As soon as he said that, Isabella was sliding her hand out of Samanyas grip.

That wasn't fair, Isabella was supposed to comfort Samanya. The heat of Isabellas hand was now gone and with it her confidence.

Smoke traveled up her nose and she coughed, her eyes stinging. She wanted to ask for him to stop, but since when did Candie give aa damn about anyones- especially her feelings ?

Whatever he wanted her here for - Samanya just wanted it taken care of and to flee from his presence.  
" What - " Samanya sneezed, " what do you want Candie? "  
When Isabella hissed in her ear that she forgot his title, Samamya corrected herself quickly " Monsieur Candie. "  
It was so ridiculous he insisted on being given the title but knew no French.

" Next time you forget to refer to me as Monsiuer, I won't hesistate to help you remeber. Do you understand nigger ? "

Her eyes just blinked really fast and her breathing was slow.

" Won' t happen again Monsiuer."

She couldn' t help but feel like he slapped her in the face. Nigger...

Samanya was not a nigger. She wanted to tell him that and scream but instead the girl stood trying to be as indifferent as possible.

Was Candie going to just always call her nigger? Would that be Samanyas new name from now on?

As if reading her mind, Candie asked " Whats yo name girl ? "

Now was her chance to let him know she was not just another girl or nigger but a human. Someone born to parents who gave them a name to distinguish themselves from all the rest.

Swallowing, Samanya straightened her back and in her most diginified voice she said, " My name is Samanya Ali. "

_I** hate writing long chapters so I am dividing this up.. It is taking me forever to type and I do not want to keep you waiting any longer. The rest will be posted no later than sunday. So far what do you think ? Is Candie out of character ? Samanya annoying or what ? **So alot of people voted for the relationship between Candie and Samanya to be romantic on my poll and there is a tie between antagonistic or in between. Its funny how no one wants them to be friends. So if you are for romantic antagonistic or in between let me know what requests you have and why you chose that option. My poll is at ~ ladyrinkayamata_


	10. Chapter 9 ( Part B)

" My name is Samanya Ali , " Samanya said.

She hoped he would call her by her name and not nigger or girl all the time.

" Samanya , " Candie repeated slowly.

It wasn't a name he heard of before but it sounded nice enough. Only problem was it was too long. Candie didn't want to say Samanya over and over again.

Samanya, pick that up !

What did I say Samanya?

Nope. He would be using too much energy.

" I'll call you Sammi , " Candie said.

Samanya sighed.

Back home - she never let anyone call her Sam, Sammi, manya, nanya or anything. Not even friends - only family.

Calvin Candie was most certainly not her family and he was not even her friend. He was her enemy plain and simple.

And for Candie to stand before her and call her by nickname without her consent was plain disrespectful. However , Samanya dug her tooth into her bottom lip, fearing it would be the only thing keeping her from saying something out of line.

" And you should know who I am by now , " Candie walked around the room, circling the two.

Samanyas eyes followed him.

" Monsieur Calvin J. Candie , " she replied.

He stopped. Something was off about her voice.  
It wasn't that she knew his full name - probably heard it from somewhere else - but by the sound of her voice you'd think the two were best friends and that Sammi knew him for years.

Sammis lips were curved up in a small smile, more to herself than anyone else until she noticed Monsieur Candie was gazing at her.

Immeaditly, Samanya straightened her face and cleared her throat.

" You wanted to talk to me about something Monsieur Candie." Samanya reminded him.

" Yes, that's right. "

Calvin began pacing again.

" Now that you have been found on my land without any free papers or a pass from your master - you belong to me. "

Possesive much? Samanya did not belong to anyone.

" I' m not a slave Monsieur ," groaned Samanya.

" Really? Where's ya papers then ? "

Samanya scratched her head and shifted her feet.

In a small voice she said, " I don't have any. "

" I can't hear that mumblin' , " Candie complained.

Yeah right, the fucker could hear her just fine.

" I said I don't have any , " Samanya repeated louder.

" Then you ", he pointed to her with his cigar " is with me 'till yo' master comes to claim you. "

Samanyas body stopped shifting. Her fingers froze, no longer scratching at her scalp.  
No master would ever come to claim her, because she had no master in the first place.

She wasn't even from this state let alone the time period

" What of no one ever comes to claim me? " Samanya ventured.  
She knew the answer but it still didn't seem to sink in. Samanya hoped that his answer was not what she feared.

Calvin paused.

" Then you stay here on Candyland. "

Samanya...on Candyland...HER?  
Nooooo. Nooooo.

She could see it now, sweat all over her body as she bent over to pick cotton. Her hands would be blistered and sliced up from the thorns protruding from the stem.  
But why did he need her , did he not have enough able bodied slaves like Isabella?

" Why do you need me ? " Samanya blurted out. It seemed pointless to her.

Stephen looked towards Calvin.

" Ya, why DO you need that gal Calvin? "

" She's a nigger and they have their uses. Until someone come claim her, she 's in mine possession. Now stop questionin' my authority , " he rebuked both of them.

But now that Calvin thought about it, why did he need Sammi? What would she be any good for ?

Sammi was interesting without a doubt from her cheekiness to the strange garments she wore...

He reminded himself that Sammi was just another nigger...right ? Nothing extraordinary.

" Monsieur , " interjected Isabellas voice, " what work would she be doing ? "  
Her voice bought him out his thoughts.

" Not a house nigger, " Calvin eliminated that option on the spot. He had plenty for one thing , but Sammis mouth was still torn and raw and would not heal for weeks - that would be a eye sore as he ate his meals.

Stephem cackled

" Gon' be burnt black in them fields. "  
" Or..." and his voice darkened, " Cleopatra Club. "

What the hell was the Cleopatra Club ?! People had brought it up but never said any revealing information, least not enough to sink into Samanyas thick skull.

By the sinister look in Stephens eyes and Candies amused face, it was not a good place to be.

Isabella put a hand on Isis' shoulder.

"You wouldn't send Samanya there not if her mouth all bleeding and ripped up." She tried to keep herself from sounding too confident.

" You's rite. No one wants a busted up nigga gal , " Stephen agreed.

" Which is why I think you should go on and send ha ass into the fields- she be put to good use from sun up to sun down. "

Samanya looked at Isabella her eyes pleading silently..She would not survive a day in the fields.

" Monsieur Candie , " Isabella said politely, " I don' think you want her doin' field work either. "

" And why wouldn' t I ? " Candie raised his eyebrows.

" Look at her hands , " noted the slave girl. She walked in front of Samanya and grabbed her hands. Gliding over them with her thumbs, Isabella felt no scars, swelling, cuts or anything. They were smooth, untouched. Never had they known the pain of seperating cotton from seeds, thorns piercing into your flesh.

Candie came over and Samanya swallowed. Being anywhere in his vincity made her uneasy now.

" Show ' em , " Isabella whispered.

Samanya slowly extended out both her hands for Candie to see. Bella was right, they were not hands of one who had worked in the fields.

O.k Candie had a peek at her hands. She was hoping he' d walk away now and give her some space. Samanya fought the urge to sneeze at the smoke entering her nostrils.

Candie did not give her space. Instead, clenching his cigar between his teeth , Candie took one of her hands and scanned all the lines etched in her palm. He then turned it over.

Samanya leaned her weight from one foot to the other, a bad habit. She despised the the stupid warm tingly feeling feeling on her hands and the blush creeping onto her face. Good thing she was dark otherwise Samanya would have been as red as a tomatoe.

After inspecting both her hands he looked at Isabella.

" I reckon your right Bella. Her hands are as soft as a babys bottom. "

That was the first nice thing Candie had said and she was tempted to say thanks but decided against it. She didn't think it was intended as praise but just a observation.  
Candies hands she had imagined would be balmy, and slimy but they were warm and large. Not unpleasant to touch - but probably ones she would want to avoid.

Comfortable as they were , they would probably be used one day to hold on to her neck and squeeze all the air out her lungs.

Candie was after all a psychopath.

" So what good is she ? " Stephen demanded, " why don' you sell ha ass- "

" Shut up Stephen , " growled Candie. He had no patience for the old bastards bitching.

He then asked , " What did you do for your old master Sammi? "

"...Uh I didn't have master, " Samanya repeated, struggling to not sound irritated , " but I used to wash dishes, clean the house for my _parents_."

"Already got Cora and them for that."

Samanya tried to think of something else.

" I used to watch my cousins and I can sew."

She had watched her cousins a few times and had to bribe or blackmail them for the boys to go to bed. Often, her throat was hoarse from screaming at them all day.

As for the sewing, her grandma tried to teach her but Samanya had no patience. Her stiches were sloppy and the seams easily ripped apart. Sometimes Samanya would carelessly stab herself in the hand distracted from day dreaming and getting blood on the material to her grannys horror. Other times she forgot to put the needles up and people would sit on them poking their butts, hands , and feet.

Samanya was no expert in babysitting or sewing but she had to pretend...no she had to _act _like one. It would keep her from the fields and Candie at the same time. Kill two birds with one stone.

If she didn't prove useful Candie might just sell her off to a different master...

Candie was dangerous but at least she knew what she was dealing with and could act accordingly. With a new master, Samanya would not know what would set him/ her off. They could be worse than Candie and that was not a risk worth taking

" Who you gon' watch ? And I don't need a seamstress , " Calvin said proudly. He had a tailor in Greenville custom making all his clothes.

" Well ," started Samanya, "...maybe you have children too young to work in the fields ? I could keep an eye on them, and make sure they don't get in their parents way. "

When Calvin still didn't budge, Samanya added , " I can sew any rips in their clothing. Who wants to waste money on field help ? "

Calvin quietly took drags from his cigar and Samanya held her breath, waiting to hear his decision.

Finally the man said , " Isabella."

" Yes Monsieur ? "

" I want you to take her out back to Lizzy in the slave quarters."

" Yes Monsieur."

Samanya looked at Isabella. Was this good or bad ?

Stephen looked like someone just took his toy. Why would Stephen feel sad ? She was not going to have the privilege of sleeping in the big house. Wouldn't that be something he wanted ?

Calvin eyed Samanya expectantly. What did he want ? Samanya was puzzled.

" Thank you Monsieur for ya' kindness ," Isabella said in a even tone , "me and Samanya are eva so thankful."

Samanya really had to kiss his ass ?

Yes. She already got on Candies bad side. Time to get on his good side.

As if the foul man had a " good " side Samanya snorted. She cleared her throat anyway. Might as well humour the man.

" My deepest thanks...Monsieur Candie , " Samanya said grandly. She even added a little curtsie for good measure , almost tripping over her dress.

" One more thing before you go , " Candie said , his voice hard now, " I don want no mo' uppity behaviour from you - we clear ? Or I won't hesistate to punish you accordingly. Again. "

Samanya sucked her teeth. He sounded like her dad threatening her, just not as loud or racist for that matter.

" Yes Monsieur."

She didn't want his bad side. Shit - Samanya did not want even his (non-existent) good side but to be on his blind side like Cora said. A nice Candie ? Her skin crawled at the thought.

Samanya turned on her heel and exited with Isabella. When the door closed she thanked Isabella.

" I would do it again , " Isabella said.

Samanya would have been crying everyday in the fields from exhaustion, the heat, and the lash. It was not work fitting for Samanya.

" Do me a favour , " Isabella said as they neared the back door in the kitchen.

" Yes ? "

" I know you don want to be nowhere near the Monsieur- so bein' a house slave woulda been hard on you too."

Samanya agreed.

Sure being a house slave wasn't as physically demanding but it meant being around Candie 24/7 watching him eat whole meals as she ate scraps.

The further away Samanya was from Candie, the better.  
While Samanya still hissed at the pain, she was glad he scrubbed lye on her gums - only because it would make her a unsuitable house slave . Or a Cleopatra club one- whatever being a slave there meant.

She thought of asking but decided against it. Samanya didn't want to know any other sick shit Candie did.

And she was relieved not to be a field slave. That thought Samanya kept private in respect for Isabella her new advisor/friend. She did back breaking in the fields and to say that would make her seem arrogant and bring strife between them.

" I ask you do one thing."

" Shoot."

Isabella opened the back door. Air blew into the kitchen , feeling cool against their sweaty skins.

When Isabella still had not said a word, Samanya asked " What ? "

Isabella stopped walking and turned to her.

In a grave voice she said, " If you don want to be near Candie, do NOT mess with Stephen, because if he gets angry he'll chase after you. And you know if Stephen near by, Candie will be right there behind him. "

_What do you think of Isabella? Wise, bossy or what ? Let me know in your reviews or pm me. Also, I am sorry for not making my Sunday deadline . Dont get mad plzzz : ( dad made me go to bed. Chapter ten or eleven things get intense because we are nearing the scene where Schultz kills Candie. Candie won't die, how I have yet to figure out. So expect it to take a while before I post a chapter. **This is important**: Lastly, I have done a poll asking how people what Smanyas relationship to be with Candy._  
_Its 46 % for romantic_  
_32 % for antagonistic_  
_32% for inbetween_  
_No one wants them to be friends and everyone cares lol. If you are for romance, antagonistic etc tell me why and what would you like for me to write in my story. I like taking reader requests. : D the poll is at ~ lady rin kayamata_


	11. Chapter 10

Lizzie sat in her rocking chair, sighing at the empty, yet stuffy, place. No one else was here, but it smelled of mold and rotting wood. Her thoughts were interrupted when someone knocked on the door, crooked and rotten on its hinges.

"Who is it?" She asked.

"Isabella."

"Come on in. It late."

The girl pushed in. Trailing behind her someone with ebony locks above her shoulders.

"Monsieur Candie got anotha one?" It was not a question but a statement.

"Yes ma'am."

It was dark in the shack, so Lizzie rose to her feet ignoring her pained joints. Finding a candle, she lit it with a match and directed the light at the two teenagers.

"Who are you?"

Samanya stared at the wrinkly, weary woman who had young youthful eyes. Her complexion was tan, her hair gentle gray curls sticking out from underneath a purple head wrap.

"Don't you hear me? Or are you death?"

She spoke properly with a snobbish undertone and an accent.

"No ma'am. Not at all."

The old woman had no glimpse of her mouth, or if she did she simply ignored the horrible condition it was in.

"This is Lizzie," the old woman referred to herself in third person, "Lizzie Pierre and I expect you to talk to me like I'm here, not some spook – we clear?"

"Calm yo'self Lizzie. She been through hell. Monsieur Candie got it in for ha'."

"Why is she here?"

"She gon' help watch the little ones while me and the others pick that cotton under the sun."

Lizzie humphed, staring at Samanya.

"You looks tired."

"I am," Samanya said coolly.

"Well, you can't afford to tire so easily. Gotta watch every move them children make from sunup to sundown."

Samanya groaned at the thought but knew the woman was right. Her stomach then growled loudly to her mortification.

"You hungry?"

"Yes."

The old woman pointed to a pot by the hearth to the left.

"Some Johnny cake ova' there. It's hard, mind you."

Samanya didn't mind. Any food was better than none at this point. She got a piece and sunk her teeth into it, despite it being nearly impossible, as if it were an impenetrable brick wall. Bland and tasteless it was but it would have to do.

"We get up soon as the driver screams for us to," Lizzie said, "and not a minute after unless you want to be knocked upside ya' head."

Samanya's heart sunk as she let her new situation sink in. She had been free in New York. Now she was trapped here, forced to take whatever was thrown at her.

"Monsieur Candie got guests. Some nigger in there too, a slaver, " Isabella piped up.

Lizzie clucked her tongue.

"He's letting a nigger sit in the big house? That's crazy." She shook her head in disbelief.

"You should make ya'self nice and comfy. You'll be stayin' here a while."

"No," Samanya blurted out, "I won't ever get 'comfy.' "

Lizzie shrugged.

"That's what they all say," she said as if it was commonplace.

Isabella looked at her, wondering what Samanya meant.

She dared not answer the puzzled look on Isabella's face. Not here. She didn't think Lizzie could be trusted. The old woman eyed her with disdain for some reason and didn't seem to be a fan at all. But no matter. Tonight would be perfect for running away. Candie would get killed... but so would Schultz. She felt sorry at the thought of Schultz's pending demise. But it was buried under her strong, burning determination to be free.

Samanya would run. Tonight. Back into the woods, to the place she belonged.

Isabella's eyes brightened with realization. Samanya would escape.

Samanya stared right back, unflinching.

But her knees felt wobbly , her stomach sick at remembrance of the screams of Dumas, and the scorching hell of a hot box that would be her fate, should she fail like Broomhilda.

In a low murmur, too low for Lizzie to hear, Isabella hissed, " Fool."

**A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update , but I was stuck and got like 4 other stories I am working on lol. Anyways , give me your likes and dislikes vote at my poll : ~ladyrinkayamata and **_IMPORTANT: any requests you have , share ! Making readers happy makes me happy ! :D_


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